


The Gaze of a God

by by_veidt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asguardian lube, Avengers Rare Pair Makeout (And More!) Fest, Bedroom Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bridge Club, Come as Lube, Dirty Talk, Dresser sex, Dry Orgasm, Eye Contact, French Kissing, Frottage, Frotting, Gay Sex, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hard Fucking, Impending Threesome, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Male Homosexuality, Manhandling, Masturbation in Shower, Multiple Orgasms, Neck Kissing, Nipple Licking, Ogling, Oral Sex, Precum, Prostate Milking, Resolved Sexual Tension, Seduction, Sexual Tension, Simultaneous Orgasm, Standing Sex, Surprise Kissing, Theres a lot going on, Voyeurism, Wall Sex, bed breaking, uniform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9636461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/by_veidt/pseuds/by_veidt
Summary: Doctors, they say, make the worst patients, but Steve has his orders, and his orderly.





	1. Ferality

**Author's Note:**

> aka 'A Tale of Two Bureaus'. ShieldSpell smut. Shameless, shameless smut. Again, just need to get it out, hopefully to others' amusement. Didn't really go through it, yet--just more story vomit, but I'll probably finish it tomorrow. I hope this is good 'in the meantime' content for those following "Cognitive Resonance"--this is kind of part of it. No sex in this chapter- really, though. Definitely could be cut in, but I didn't want to add it to it--think of it as a different direction. Possibly some ThunderShieldSpell later on. Who knows. We'll see. Anyway, enjoy. I'm never attest to kudos and comments.

Showering was a strange concept to Stephen—now anyway. He never thought of a shower as being a vulnerable place outside of horror movies, but now that he was on guard most of the time, it was odd to be without his robes, his cloak, and the ability to see or hear well. Water in itself had it's own mystical ability to diffuse, heighten and also dampen perceptions among other things. He had made it through many, many showers without incident, but the thought crept up on Stephen every now and then. He ran a hand through his hair, sputtering out water that ran over his face. He turned the water off and stared at the handle. Maybe, he thought, he should start counting. Where would he start? Maybe after that time with Thor. Was that an incident—it was something. He felt the flush run down to his groin, trying to distract himself, but failing as the memory seeped through. He turned the water back on and reluctantly reached for his growing hardness, resting against his forearm on the tile wall. He let out a heavy sigh, focusing intently on keeping his hand steady as it slowly closed around him. His breathing was even as he stroked himself, concentration ebbing, the erratic movement of his hand bringing it back. He had gotten farther than the last time he tried, but eventually realized, again, that the level of concentration needed to keep his hand doing what he wanted was just enough to keep him from relaxing into release. He slowed and stopped, sighing again and standing, turning the handle the farthest over to 'cold' as it would go. His lips pursed, thinking about the lack of magic in this area, but he supposed if he wants people dedicated to saving the world, you can't give them the option to stay in bed. He turned off the shower, standing there for a moment as his body warmed up again before he stepped out and toweled off.

He ran a palm of styling crème through his hair, combing it through with his fingers; at least they worked for that. He washed his hands and wrapped the towel around his waist. He wasn't sure why he stuck with that habit as he could only think of one other time when someone was in the Sanctum, but walking around naked just never seemed like a good idea to him—it was just a towel though. He stepped out of the room and into the hall, heading to the bedroom, but stopping as he passed an artifact hallway, a very familiar and sturdy form turned sideways to him, looking up from a glass-cased gem. And suddenly Stephen felt very vulnerable. A brief smile flashed over Rogers' typically stone-faced expression as his eyes ran up and down the doctor's body, and Strange wondered if he would have been better off without it. Stephen spoke first. “I'm sorry you had to see me like this,” he offered as he turned more to face the man, who was moving the same. 

“Nothing I haven't seen before, Doctor.”

“Yes, well, I'm sure it's not disappointing when you look in the mirror,” and they both know Stephen's only real qualm with himself was his slight signs of aging, but the banter with the immortal looking blonde was easy. 

Steve gave a quiet laugh, “I'm still human.”

“Anatomically, I suppose.”

“Maybe you can give a me a physical then sometime if it'll ease your doubts,” Rogers smirked, sauntering towards the other. Strange felt his groin throb, but he hid it well, trying to quickly decipher Rogers implication; it could be harmless, but he knew Steve had been in this era long enough to have a sense of self, certainly pride, and a familiarity with subtly at this point that made him difficult to read. 

And Rogers, as clever and rarely matched as the doctor was, saw his weight shift from one foot to the other, color blanching out of his face slightly—this would be easier than he thought. He wondered if this is how Natascha saw the world all of the time.

“So, what can I help you with?” Stephen broke the momentary silence, watching the soldier take another step forward.

“I actually had a weird dream that I thought you could explain to me.”

“I'm not a palm reader, Captain,” he droned, but the way his tired tone rolled over the last word melted Rogers a bit, reminiscent of the last time he had thought about how this interaction would transpire. 

“Right. I just thought you could... I don't know... look into my thoughts or subconscious or something.” The idea tickled Rogers at letting the man poke around his mind; he was curious as to how the doctor would react. 

Stephen wasn't sure if Rogers was being particularly sly or stupid, but the swagger in his steps, intentionally in his uniform, and the not-so-subtle subtle suggestiveness gave him away. He was trying to seduce him, for some reason, and it was well beyond Stephen as to why. A game, a test, to prove he could? Pride? What was his end game? “Why are you really here?” Strange's tone was as level as his gaze, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but Steve's eyes as he stood several feet from him.

“You mean you don't want to know what I'm thinking?” Rogers gave a playful smile, squaring up to the other. 

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” Strange responded with a wry smile, “which is the perplexing part,” words almost trailing off with, eyebrows raised for a moment, as he walked away. He could hear the man following him, pausing as his hand rest on the handle to the bedroom. As he turned a hand planted against the door over his shoulder, line of sight following the arm to the wrist and back. 

“Feeling cocky, are we?” Strange flashed a mildly annoyed smirk. 

“Something like that,” Rogers grinned, leaning in to Stephen's neck. 

“Whoa-ok,” Stephen exclaimed, opening the door and stumbling back through, grabbing a hold of his towel as he stepped out the way of Steve catching himself. “I'm kind of...involved. In a thing. A complicated thing.”

“Well, that's why I'm here.”

“To what? Compromise my loyalty?” Stephen was fully indignant at this point, annoyance overwhelming his attraction. 

“Actually, he's the one who sent me.”

“...What the hell are you talking about?”

“Thor. He told me keep an eye on you.”

“And your idea of 'keeping and eye' on me involves putting your hands on me?”

Steve just laughed to himself. “It wasn't /my/ idea,” he smiled, “but I can't say I argued.” For the first time in a long time Stephen couldn't believe what he was hearing, and what was worse was the man didn't seem to be lying. “I mean, it must be pretty good to draw /his/ attention.”

“I---'m still very confused as to what's going on,” Stephen started after a moment. “Are you trying to tell me that Thor sent you to...what...fuck me?” His shoulders dropped a bit, frustration waning. 

Rogers eyes indicated the shaking hand that painfully clutched at the fold of towel on Stephen's hip. “That doing you any good?” His eyes found the doctor's again, Stephen giving him an uneasy, but less threatened look. When did this arrangement come about? Why didn't he ask him, let along even tell him he was contemplating this. He didn't need looking after, but maybe it was some Asguardian cultural thing. He closed his eyes, straightening himself and rolling his shoulders and neck. He knew Rogers wouldn't lie about something like that—why would he? At the moment, this was causing him more stress, but maybe that was a good indicator that the last six months of Thor being in Asguard was taking its toll on him.

“The uniform isn't really fair,” he half-heartedly chuckled as he dropped his head, rubbing his face with his hands. 

“Yeah, well, figured I should hedge my bets. I can take it off if you like,” he teased, watching the other look up at him. “You know... if you want to be on an even playing field.”

“Oh I'm sure that would make me feel real even,” he replied with an edge of sarcasm.

Steve laughed and tentatively approached the other man, hooking a middle finger on the towel edge, pulling Stephen closer, and the sorcerer couldn't hide a glimmer of amusement. “Do you even know what you're doing?”

“I guess you'll have to find out.”


	2. Salvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preemptively, I kind of don't like this chapter. It was really difficult to write for some reason, and I feel like it suffered from all of the distractions going on. I hope you all like it, and enjoy it while I muster up the brain power to work on CogRes. Thank you for the support, and I love seeing people enjoy it. I say it a lot, but it means a lot. It's what keeps me writing a lot of the time.

Steve's hands slid to the doctor's waist, admiring the smoothness of his skin for a moment. “So, what exactly did you do that landed you in this much debt?”

“It's just a favor,” Rogers smiled, leaning in to kiss under Stephen's jaw. 

“No, a favor is going out to get some milk,” he responded, exposing more of this neck. 

Steve chuckled, “Let's just say he made me an offer I couldn't refuse.” He bit at the sorcerer's neck, tongue smoothing it over as his thumbs pressed against the man's flesh. He imposed himself more into the space between them, Strange's hand shakily bracing against his hips with an obvious uneasiness that made Steve grin against him. “Do I make you nervous?” he asked quietly against the man's ear, hips pressing through the resistance to meet the other's.

“Only in that I'm in a compromising position with a superhuman experiment gone horribly right that I grew up reading about who volunteered to personally see to my carnal satisfaction while my space alien boyfriend is away fighting some astral war or something. Though, I guess it still isn't the strangest thing that's happened to me,” he breathed, hands feeling their way up the ridges of armor and contour of his musculature. The numbness in his fingertips frustrated him in the moment, but at least he still had them. The way Rogers' firm chest moved under his hands as he breathed caused a heat to rise up Strange's neck. 

Rogers smiled, leaning back a bit and giving Stephen's waist a good squeeze before he reached over his head and behind him, the sound of velcro following. He reached back down and around, tugging the zipper cord of his armor down. He raised his eyebrows as Stephen met his gaze, tugging at the ends of his sleeves and sliding the top half off of his body. Stephen felt his jaw go slack for a moment, correcting it and swallowing. He felt his heart beat faster—this was real. And of course he was nervous; this all seemed crazy when he really thought about it. He let out a startled noise when the soldier yanked him forward by the fold of the towel, holding him against him by an arm around his waist. Stephen had put his hands up impulsively, and as they settled against the other's ribs, his eyes had wandered down to watch his thumbs explore the topography of the man's body. The feeling of Rogers skin pressed to his certainly reminded him of Thor—that smooth heat and firm structure. And he hadn't realized how much he needed it. Thor, however, seemed to, but the god had also sent Captain Steve Rogers. 

“What's that?” Steve smiled, nipping at his ear as Strange tried to hide a small laugh.

“Thor sent you to do this... but... no offense, Captain, but you seem like the last person who would or could.”

“I think, as far as Thor is concerned, I'm the only one qualified—I'd be happy to show you my resume, Doctor.”

“Hold on...” Strange had to work that over in his mind a few times. Thor and Captain Rogers. He felt his groin pulse as he rolled that image around in his head a few times, and Steve pressed against Strange's growing hardness, watching the blush rise in his cheeks, a muffled groan overcoming Strange. 

“Yeah..?” Steve teased, grinding against the sorcerer. “I've thought a lot about you screaming my name,” he spoke lowly against his neck, hand navigating around him, giving part of the spellcaster's ass a hard squeeze through the towel, “but I'm sure I'll enjoy every noise I can draw out of you between now and then.” Rogers' cock was solid against Stephen's thigh, and the soldier's self restraint was becoming increasingly obvious. “Bed,” he ordered, giving Stephen a quick kiss on the neck before he released him. 

Strange made a meager attempt to hide his prominence with a hand, towel doing nothing to help. He turned hesitantly though, watching the other's predatory stare run up and down his body. He frowned slightly, just having recently repaired the bed frame—maybe Captain Rogers would be a bit more gentle with him. Stephen hiked some of the towel up, kneeling on the edge of the bed and hesitating before leaning forward, delicately resting on his hands, crawling slowly, tauntingly to the center of the bed. His movements were intentionally lithe, and he could feel Steve's eyes on him. He settled back on his calves, taking in a deep breath. This was alright, and it would be good for him—maybe it would land him in a interesting situation in the future. He let out another breath before a firm hand ran up his back, giving his shoulder a squeeze. How many of the Avengers were sleeping around? Was this just a thing that happened? No, it couldn't be. Tony was with Pepper, Barton had a family, Natascha was...well, probably with Bruce, but who knows. Pym and the auxiliary group weren't even around, or in this country to his knowledge. That left Captain Rogers and Thor—why didn't that work? Cosmic forces were at work here, he suspected, but what he had with Thor made more sense the more he thought about it. 

Strange felt a sharp pull on his shoulder, back hitting the comforter, and Steve was between his legs, towel sliding further up as the soldier's hips pressed forward, hands roaming up the doctor's body. Stephen laughed nervously, hands finding Rogers' arms, the swollen muscle underneath the soft skin making him shiver; it was hard to believe he was still human. Rogers' solid length, restrained in his pants, pressed against the other, smirking as he saw the doctor watching him. And Stephen was watching him closely, infatuated with the way his muscles flexed and moved. His eyes darted up, realizing Rogers was very aware that he was examining the superhuman. Steve leaned down, hesitating just over Strange's lips and moving to kiss down his jaw. He took some of the doctor's skin between his teeth along his neck, marks blooming as he went, and Stephen squirmed under him briefly. “Am I being too rough with you, Doctor?” Rogers' asked lowly, lips brushing the man's ear as he spoke. It was a mocking question, evident in his tone—he obviously knew what being with Thor was like. The soldier curved his body more, pressing Stephen's needy cock between them, a stifled moan indicative of the sorcerer's falling guard. 

Rogers mouthed his way to Stephen's collarbone, shifting his weight back again to his legs as his hands navigated the doctor's form. Strange arched up with a quiet moan as the soldier's thumbs traced over the raised flesh on his chest. Rogers couldn't help but smile as his tongue drew flat across one of the man's nipples, hands tightening on Steve's forearms with another quiet sound. He repeated the gesture several times before his lips sealed over the spot, teeth threatening, but only serving to elicit a squirm and hiss. He teased him until Strange bucked up against him, frustration peeking through, grabbing the doctor's wrists and continuing for a moment longer. Strange flexed against him, gauging Rogers' strength compared to Thor's—he didn't seem anything but amused by the sorcerer's attempt to free himself. He gave a gloating grind against Stephen, watching the man go tense under him for a moment, pupils wide, and he took great satisfaction in eroding the doctor's defenses. 

He pressed against Stephen again, smirking as Stephen muttered something in a language he didn't understand. Stephen's eyes were closed, repeating what sounded like the same unintelligible words, smirk quickly replaced with a furrowed brow as Rogers realized what was happening. He reached to cover Strange's mouth, but he was too late, a solid hand planting itself against his chest with a gold burst, Steve floating up, movements slow as he struggled to fight the hold over him. Stephen propped himself up on his free elbow, a very smug smile punishment enough for Rogers; the helpless floating was just insult to injury. “I'd like to conduct that physical now,” Strange remarked as casually as a clinic rotation. He lowered the soldier to his back next to him, sitting up and straddling the man, sitting back square over Steve's tempered erection as it throbbed against the confines of his uniform. His hands ran fondly over Rogers' muscle groups, eyes flickering over each section, a peculiar distance in his gaze that the captain hadn't seen before. 

Some time had passed, and Strange was looking over one of Steve's hands. “Do you miss it?” the blonde offered, watching the fondness and intensity to which Strange's trembling hands inventoried his body. 

“I never really did any of this—at least, not after general surgical.”

“Don't you all just... do hospital stuff?”

Strange's eyes flicked up to meet Rogers', incredulous only for a moment—he didn't have the right anymore. “No,” was his blunt answer before his eyes went back to scanning the super-soldier. He felt his heart sink, though, watching his hands quake as they spread over Steve's chest. Talk about a lifestyle change, though his love life had never been better—at least he had that to be grateful for, and many other things, but it was hard to remember them when he was staring down his own catastrophic mistake and the unforgiving consequences. 

Thor had warned Rogers about this, knew he'd have to work to keep his attention, but he wasn't sure what to do without free movement. “I know what it's like to have to leave a life behind,” he said quietly, watching as Strange offered no reaction. “I know better than probably anyone else you're ever going to meet, but I've learned that it's usually for a good reason. It may not seem like it at the time, or for a while, but what would the world be like if you weren't here?” It wouldn't, is the answer, but they both knew that. Strange gave a weak laugh, looking off around the room as if for an answer he couldn't see. “You have to learn to let go of what could have been, because it's not. It's now. Trust me, I had to learn that the hard way.”

“Then help me forget,” he said softly. He didn't mean to, but his thoughts were distant. 

“You'll have to let me go for that,” Steve smiled, trying to keep his tone from sounding smart.

Strange gave him a flat, but humored look. “The spell wore off as soon as you hit the bed.” A haughty smirk and quickly cocked eyebrow in Rogers' direction was just salt in the wound, and the soldier closed his eyes momentarily, taking a moment to mentally kick himself. 

Before Stephen could react he was on his back, towel gone and hitting the floor, hands pinned and hot, wet mouth on his neck, injecting him with tortured need. Steve broke away from the other quickly, straightening himself and unfastening his pants. The slide of the zipper seemed tortuously slow, and Stephen could feel his heart flutter. Rogers withdrew himself slowly, making a small noise as he pumped himself a couple of times, the relief from the uniform and anticipation of fucking Doctor Strange into the beautifully undone landscape of lust-fueled abandon as Thor described making his cock pulse hard in his grasp. Stephen's gaze was unwavering, watching the strong hand on the dark flushed flesh, thick and better than he had ever imagined. He swallowed as his cock twitched, eager and impatient, Rogers leaning his hips forward and taking Strange into his hand, pressed firm against his length. Stephen groaned, trying to push up against the sensation, but his thighs draped over the other's gave little leverage. Rogers pressed a hand to the sorcerer's chest as he leaned forward, hand drawing up slowly enough to drive Strange to try to thrust against him again. Steve kept him like that for longer than either would have liked, but it was just enough to keep Strange obedient to him, and if Steve could, he'd keep him like that for days. But he was still human.

Steve released them, the closest noise Strange would ever make to a whimper following. The soldier sat on the edge of the bed, unzipping his boots and leaving them tucked by the bed corner, standing and stretching—showing off really. He looked back over his shoulder, Strange kneeled in the center of the bed, hands folded over his prominence, but his calm appearance belies his racing heartbeat and overwhelming need for the captain—his need for his heat and passion and strength and his humanity. Steve slides his uniform down, stepping out of the form-fitting armor and turning towards the doctor. Strange's eyes are dark as they surreptitiously take in the man's body head to toe and back; the pinnacle of human perfection and still a victim of carnal impulse. The concept makes Stephen almost snort as Rogers kneels on the bed, assuming a similar position as the sorcerer as he locks eyes with him. Strange raises an eyebrow slowly, swallowing impulsively and closing his eyes as his tell is made. Can he conjure a spell in this position faster than the captain can move? He lets out a breath and opens his eyes, hands pulling apart in a fraction of a second, a strand of energy between them, but Steve is already on him, a Tiger in mid pounce before Stephen could even blink.


	3. Indulgence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my kind and patient readers. I wanted to continue this chapter until the end, but I figured I'll just break it up so you have something more to read in the meantime. Enjoy!

“Enough stargazing, Doctor. How about a demonstration?” he breathed against Stephen's neck, fingers threading through the scarred one's under his grasp. His hips rolled forward, smooth and purposeful, cock sliding against the spell-caster's. And suddenly it seemed like too much for Strange, and he had to bite back pleading for him, the husky roll of Steve's voice against his skin sabotaging any wit Strange could muster. Rogers' hands trailed down the doctor's forearms, finding his ribs and palming down to the man's hips, and Strange felt his body press up very gently into the touch, legs spreading further, and it made him smile—the unconsciously conditioned and physiological pull to the contact. And he wanted it so much, needed the caress of his still human counter, even if this didn't end in sexual gratification, the attention Rogers gave him was enough to remind him of how wonderful it was to be human and alive; something Thor always lauded, and Rogers was certainly doing the god's work. 

Stephen jolted as a warm slickness pressed up the underside of his waiting hardness, a sultry moan chasing as Steve didn't hesitate in taking him into his mouth. Strange's hand settled against the blonde's forehead, holding him at bay for a moment. Steve's tongue just undulated against him, taunting, waiting for Strange to compose himself—he certainly had admirable will for someone who had gone from rolling around with Thor to absolutely nothing. He pressed into the resistance, drawing himself up the doctor's length, hips stalling before a breath relaxed Strange back into the comforter. His hand shakily pulled along strands of the other's hair, taking in another breath as he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation. Rogers hands had snaked around under the sorcerer's thighs, hands cradling his hips as his thumbs trace the groove along his groin. He moved gently up and back down his length, savoring the way the doctor shivered and moved and the way the hand in his hair tightened, but quickly, apologetically, let go. “I need more of this in my life,” Stephen smiled, stroking down to the back of Rogers' head. Steve snorted a laugh, Strange's cock twitching in response. His pace sped up, earning a quiet moan as Strange's body arched up, hand on the blonde's head urging him on.

Within what seemed like a short time, Stephen could feel that familiar tingling and tightness in his groin, trying to pull Steve's head back by his hair. “Captain, wait...” he breathed as his body grew taut, Steve continuing with a leering gaze up. The soldier felt himself shift at the way the words rolled over Stephen's labored and gravelly voice, eager to hear it again. And it was evident to Strange when their eyes met—that fervor and intensity cracking that patient facade that he saw in Thor as well. A shudder ran up him as his body fought his focus, head tilting back with a tremulous 'ah' just as Steve replaced his mouth with a hand at the base of Strange's cock. He tried and failed to suffocate a moan as orgasm broke in him, spilling up his body, heart pounding as he fought for breath. Steve's hand pushed up along Strange's still solid cock, wrist quickly apprehended by a band of light. “I haven't done this in a while,” Stephen breathed, spell dissipating. He closed his eyes as the final ripples of orgasm leveled out in his body. And for a moment he couldn't believe he had manged that after so long. He collapsed back on to the bed, taking in slower breaths.

Rogers licked his lips as he smiled. “You look so...” He didn't particularly want to finish that sentence because he didn't know how. Unassuming? Vulnerable? Human? His point was he forgot how powerful Stephen was because it wasn't evident in his demeanor. All of his cohorts were bulky, or had some other physical indicator of their power. Even Natasha looked like she would snap your neck in the next blink while maintaining a smile. Stephen was, well he was Doctor Strange, but he was also so simple, and so complex—Steve felt like he was starting to understand this thing he had with Thor a little better. 

“'So'...what?” Stephen asked with a rattle as the words came out over the lower end of his voice. He sighed softly through his nose, fingers carding smoothly through his own hair, adjusting it back to presentable. He raised his hand over his face, turning it as he examined the minor tremor that moved it now. 

“Relaxed,” Rogers settled, trying to fight the glow he could feel in his affect—it was so nice to just 'be', and to 'be' with someone else who needed it just as much. He ran his hand up the spellcaster's abdomen, Stephen arching placidly into his touch. He went to sit up, a hand pressing him back into the bed. 

“You really have that much leverage from that angle?” Strange said with a curious disbelief, trying to sit up again. 

“It's not leverage,” Steve chuckled, hand rubbing at the spot on the doctor's chest. “But if you want, I could show you in the middle of the room—standing.” He scooped his arm back under Strange's thigh, grabbing his waist as he sat up with little effort, despite minor protest from Stephen. Strange's hands braced against Rogers' shoulders as he navigated to the edge of the bed by his knees. 

“Okay, I believe you,” Stephen bargained nervously, arms wrapping around the captain's neck. He knew Rogers wouldn't drop him, but the impulse to protect his head he had ingrained into himself over the years was hard to overwhelm. Steve stepped down to the floor slowly, other foot following as he walked a few steps away from the bed. Stephen leaned back slightly, hands resting again on Steve's shoulders. He looked down and back up to his support, a borderline smug expression on Captain Rogers face, but something hidden in it. “What is this like?”

“I think for you it's like picking up a cat.”

“No, I mean... what is /this/ like.” Strange cautiously ran his hands over Steve's shoulders.

“You know as well as I do, Doctor,” he said with a rounded optimism in his voice. If he spent as much time as Banner or Strange did trying to figure out what was going on instead of going with it, he probably would have been committed. “Besides, I know what /this/ is like.” He bounced Strange against him once, smiling, waiting. He thought Thor was exaggerating about keeping Strange's attention, or at least keeping him out of his own head, but this was definitely the most challenging part. He walked over to the dresser against the far wall, setting the doctor down on it, giving him a pat on the leg before walking back over to his belt that was piled in the middle of the floor. Stephen's eyes followed him the entire time, watching how lithe and assertive his steps were, and the way his back flexed when he kneeled to rifle through his belt pouches. The supersoldier stood, turning and catching the sorcerer's gaze, and Strange had to fight a smile as a blush crept up him—he still felt awkward when he knew he was eye-humping Rogers, uniform or not. He had tried before to justify it through medical curiosity, but this was just lust, pure and simple, with a touch of anticipation. And as he watched Steve press his very present erection down, he saw the gleam of the familiar violet glass, a distinct heat rushing up him. Rogers gave a lopsided grin as he sauntered up to the other. “I guess you remember what this is.”

“I remember everything, Captain,” Stephen smirked, hiding the hollowness that threatened his voice. 

“Let's see if I can fix that.” Steve bit the top the bottle, pulling the top out and pouring a generous amount of fluid over his fingers. He resealed the container and set it down slowly on the dresser before he firmly pressed the doctor back into the wall, unable to take a breath before Steve had two fingers in him, mouth falling open in silence as that wonderful inferno spread up his spine, skin tingling, and heart skipping. Steve pressed deeper, jaw tilting up as he watched the sorcerer's brow furrow, a small noise following a sharp breath. Stephen clutched at the soldier's arm, groaning as he arched towards the other, breath coming shorter. Rogers waited until Strange's eyelids fluttered closed before adding another finger, dragging his fingertips along that swelling spot with each stroke and enjoying the way some part of the spellcaster twitched and tightened when he did. 

He pulled his arm away from the other's grasp, freeing his other hand and hurriedly grabbing for the vial. He poured another handful over his aching cock, smoothing it out over every millimeter before giving Strange a few firm strokes, pulling a startled moan from him, the tingling vibration of the lubricant spreading down into his loins. Steve could feel the intensity in his own gaze as he stared the other man down, waiting as Stephen slowly opened his eyes, the dilated and distant look he held with labored breaths veiling the quick examination of the soldier's expression. Rogers leaned in, arms under Stephen's thighs and hands tight on his ass, stopping just shy of the doctor as the spellcaster expectantly leaned forward. “Mm... that does work pretty good on you,” he smiled, voice low enough to almost be a whisper, leaning further past Strange's jaw, tongue drawing up the perimeter of his ear. He felt the shudder run down Stephen's back, taking the edge of his ear between his teeth as he pressed into the spellcaster. Stephen hesitated to move before Rogers moved down to his neck, the warm slickness of the captain's tongue and mouth drawing blooming red patches on his skin melting him further into his grasp.

Rogers straightened himself, taking the other with him, Strange reaching for his shoulders again. He stepped back from the dresser, sliding Stephen fully down onto him, a sting of tension whipping up the doctor's body, ending in a broken cry. Steve lifted him again, settling him back down again, earning another squirm and a smaller noise. Strange swallowed, pulling himself closer to the other's body until his arms were sturdy around the blonde's neck. Steve gave an exploratory thrust up into the doctor, following with another and another when the man arched against him, arms tightening around his shoulders. Rogers widened his stance as he jounced Stephen against his hips, a filthy moan spilling against Steve's neck as Strange surrendered to his direction, cock skating up and down Steve's abdomen causing him to shudder again.

A few curse words and some time later, Steve could feel the doctor's grip slipping, and the less than enthusiastic effort to maintain it was a good sign, but not if he wanted to keep him upright. He stepped in towards the wall, pressing Stephen into it as he continued his ardent pace in the man. Strange could feel himself grow lightheaded, an unusual tightness in his lower abdomen that turned into rhythmic pulsing, a pleasured thrumming drawing his jaw slack as he felt the cooling pour of fluid streaming down his cock. “Messy...” Steve tutted quietly against the sorcerer's cheek. The sticky slap that formed as the fluid spilled further down Stephen caused a shiver of perverse satisfaction in the captain. He leaned back, eyes prowling over the far gone image that Doctor Strange had carved for himself that dissolved into this slick and indulgent slut, eyes wet and pleading and deep, lips parted, dewed with saliva as he panted, body sheened with sweat, muscles strained under olive skin, hands shakily grasping at Steve's darker arms as they held him tight, cock pulsing precum down his shaft and body, and the same sticky sweet slap of his solid erection against his lower abs as Steve's unrelenting thrusts pulled him further and further from coherency.


	4. Equillibrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters? In two days? Preposterous. It's a short addition, but enough that I figured I shouldn't hold onto it until I finish the rest of it.  
> Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos; I genuinely enjoy hearing from you whether I respond to the specific comment or not. And I'm so glad you're all enjoying this side venture as much as I am. And I promise, I am working on CogRes--this one is just easier at the moment.   
> Enjoy

Steve let out a tight sigh, rolling his shoulders as he worked to maintain his self-control, getting a firm grip on Stephen before he slid out of him, helping him get his footing—or what he could manage. When he had his feet under him, Rogers pushed him towards the dresser, Stephen stumbling and barely catching himself with a gold burst before collapsing on to the hard wood surface. The soldier rolled his head back as he stepped up behind Strange, quickly shrugging his shoulders twice before running a hand up the center of the doctor's back, admiring the way he curved up into his touch. He guided himself back into the waiting body, savoring the way he moaned and the way his body tightened around him. And he really enjoyed how simple this all way, start to finish. He didn't want to admit it, but fucking men seemed like it came easier. The women he was with always seemed too concerned about making it look like porn, but Stephen didn't have to—it just seemed to come naturally to him; he and Thor anyway. His mind wandered in that direction more than he intended—it must be like watching a star be born to see them together. A shiver ran up him, hand running back down Steven's spine, both hands settling on his hips. His thumbs pressed into the dimples above his ass, laughing inwardly as he slid them back and fourth through the divots. His hips cantered forward again, Stephen unconsciously bucking in response. Strange pushed himself up onto his forearms, forehead resting on his hands as they balled together. His legs quivered as Rogers slid in and out of him slowly, cock pulsing again before a gentle hand wrapped around him, slicking a handful of precum down his length. Strange's shoulders pulled up as his back tightened with a shaky moan, urging himself back into Steve's clutches. The soldier's other hand glided up to the center of the sorcerer's lower back, pressing him into a deeper arch as he stroked him, thrusts coming faster. “Think you can do that trick for me again?”

Stephen panted hard against the wood grain, trying to formulate words as he shook his head. “Not like this,” was his barely audible response, trying to fight his quickly escalating orgasm. He made a voiceless cry as Steve pulled out of him, standing the doctor up and turning him around before forcing him up against the desk.

“How about like this,” he growled into the little space between them, stroking them together, and Strange felt like he had to pull energy from another dimension to keep himself supported against the edge of the dresser, arms shaking as he watched the captain's magnificently long and powerful fingers so gracefully slide up and down their pressed lengths, pulse pounding in his ears. 

“No promises,” he smiled, head lulling back. Steve cocked an eyebrow to finish the curiously amused look his face otherwise held. It was so satisfying to see Strange such a mess, but still just enough of him left to make sure you knew who you were fucking; how typical of him. The doctor's body had a nice luster of sweat over it, hair slightly damp, a deep flush running up his chest and neck, fading the imprints from Rogers initial rites over the man's body. His chest pulled up with each heavy breath, whole body trembling as it tried to support itself and begging to be touched, to which Steve complied, earning himself a long and indulgent hum as he ran his hand up the doctor's side, over his ribs, and up his sternum. His hand settled on the other's neck, leaning in as his other hand glided effortlessly up his other side, cupping behind his head as he took advantage of his exposed neck. Stephen settled into the support, fingers threading up the back of the blonde's neck and into his hair while Rogers worked on touching up his now maroon-colored marks, grinding against him just enough to know he was bringing him closer. 

Stephen clutched the soldier tighter, each pant punctuated by a heated sound, the doctor's other hand patting at Rogers hip before pushing him back slightly. Steve bit down on the spellcaster's collarbone, achieving a sharper moan as climax swelled up through Strange, fingers digging into Steve's hip and scalp. Each following breath was a small, but labored cry, body trembling against the supersoldier as he wound an arm around Stephen's waist, securing his weight against himself. He felt Strange's head roll forward over his shoulder and grip slacken, all but sliding from him completely, and he wasn't sure for a moment that the doctor hadn't passed out, the distinctive shift of Stephen's throat as he swallowed the only indication that he was still semi-conscious. “Still with me, doc?”

Stephen took in a deep breath, hand moving to Steve's shoulder as he made to stand. “More than I've ever been, Captain,” he smiled. His tone was languid and low, barely an edge to his consonants, and his malleability almost aroused a guilt in the soldier—almost. Steve lowered the other's weight back onto his own feet, a slight sway to him as Stephen caught his balance against the edge of the dresser. Rogers flashed him a quick smile before walking over to the bed, sitting on the edge and patting his thigh, beckoning Strange over. The sorcerer gave a half-hearted huff, looking away as he obeyed, as if the lack of acknowledgment would somehow change the fact that he was so biddable in this moment. He stopped just short of Steve, hand trying to smother his straining cock as the final glimmers of orgasm still teased at his nerve endings. He was still looking off, at nothing really, but he found small details around the room to make it look like his mind was otherwise occupied. 

“Good boy,” Steve grinned, reveling in the way Strange's demeanor hardened. “Can you sit?” he taunted, a patronizing ring in his voice. Stephen leveled a sidelong glance at him, browsing his mental catalog of abrasive responses. Steve stood and pulled him in by the hip. “How about beg?” His voice was subdued, but did little to hide the wicked lust that hung on over word. They both knew how it jarred Stephen's pride, but they also both knew there was not much Strange would do differently—part of him even liked it. Much like the way both Steve and Thor taunted him, always at the end of their lead, because they could. That wasn't to say they didn't respect the knowledge that if Stephen was so inclined he could put them both in a particularly precarious position involving a quick dip in and through another dimension, but the power play between them was never about power, but the lack thereof. And in this moment, they were both winning, but Steve had the upper had as far as decision making, and they both knew that as well. So, Strange just gave him a quick and knowing smirk, conceding to the beautifully crafted man that stood before him, imposing and tender and here for Stephen's benefit. The glance they shared as he moved away from Rogers spoke volumes, which relieved both because Steve knew he was no linguistic match for Stephen, and Stephen was much more interested in expending the rest of his energy under the man rather than across from him. 

Strange slowly kneeled on the bed, leaning onto his hands again, a firm hand sweeping over the curve of his ass and down the back of his thigh. He crawled away from the touch, slowly, purposefully, turning and sitting back on his heels, waiting as he had before. “Please....?” he said softly, forced, eyes dark as he turned and tilted his head slightly, watching the soldier as he stood at the edge of the bed. 

“'Please' what?” the soldier grinned, shifting his weight to one side. He knew what Stephen was doing, and he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction despite the throb in his groin.

“Please, take advantage of my exhausted and endorphin addled mind and body by imposing your superior physical stature to satisfy your own carnal impulses within my pliant and acquiescent form.” The words came out as easily and eloquently as ever with a false air of diffidence, eyes patently roaming down and back up Steve's body. 

“English,” Rogers rebuked, licking his lips as he looked off for a moment with a half-laugh, annoyed that Stephen was, even in his state, still so good at that.

“Please,” he swallowed, “/fuck/ me...Captain.” The last word was chosen carefully, enough to weaken Rogers' resolve, and Steve felt as if the doctor could see his heart skip a beat. 

“Language,” he playfully reproved, with a slight and admonishing head tilt as the second correction had to be made. He placed one knee on the bed, making a quite noise of annoyance as he got back up, walking over to the dresser and picking up the crystal vial. He was surprised to see Stephen where he left him when he turned back, waiting, facing the door. He looked eternally patient, serene, a vessel through which all things beautiful and omnipotent moved through this world. He felt odd to exist in the same room with him for a moment, but knowing the deviant and salacious and passionate creature that lurked beneath that harmonious exterior quelled any apprehension he had; and he knew how fragile that porcelain mask was.

He sidled around to the foot of the bed, crawling towards Strange, stopping just short of him and assuming the same position. Stephen's eyes opened slowly, and Rogers expected them to be as tranquil as the rest of him, but they were smoldering, unrelenting as they burned through the soldier. Steve extended an arm, the sorcerer's gaze never parting from Steve's as he cupped the other's jaw, leaning in for what would have been an impassioned kiss, hesitating just before, despite the slight tilt Strange offered. Rogers felt the brief ghost of their lips almost upon each other, and the moment seemed stilled in its own infinite loop of time. 'Not mine' was the mantra that repeated in the back of Steve's mind. It was just a kiss, and he was briefly indignant, but if it was just a kiss, he himself shouldn't care so much. “I don't know if even you would win that fight,” Strange whispered against him, eyes closed as the barbed smile was evident in his cadence; his words were heavy, but true. Stephen leaned back slowly, Rogers chasing, never losing ground as the doctor grinned, and the soldier could feel the curl of his lips just a miscalculation away.


	5. Immolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck it. Here it is. Why not, already, perhaps. I fought with myself a lot how to end this chapter, but fuck it--it's just a story. I'm not writing a dissertation, right? It's supposed to be fun and crazy, so here you go. I hope you all enjoy it. I'm going to pause work on this one to finish the Stracilius one and finally finish CogRes--middle of the semester, man. It's rough.  
> Anyway, it's kind of done, but I'm going to do more for it. Love it, hate it, let me know, we'll see where it goes. Much love for those following.

Rogers felt the shift in Stephen's gravity, hand moving around the the back of Strange's neck, mouth now over his throat as they fell to the bed. And as soon as they hit, all of that tension and desire burned through that transparent veil of sanctity. The soldier's body pinned the other down, urging the doctor's legs apart, teeth and tongue sealing his possession of the spellcaster in this moment. Strange's hands clawed at the blonde's shoulders, a quick cry and hiss the response to a particularly hard bite. Rogers tried to hide a rougish chuckle, sitting up to admire his work for a moment while he poured another handful of liquid from the gleaming bottle. He slicked his throbbing length, stealing a glance down to the so quickly flushed and indecent man under him. And with little hesitation guided himself back into Stephen's heat, hand clenching against the underside of one of the doctor's thighs. He pressed in fully, the muscle in his grasp tightening, a quiet gasp and stifled noise cutting through the suddenly deafening stillness in the room. Strange ventured a glance down his body, and for once he could see Rogers as whole rather than pieces. The sharp cut of his Adonis belt over his hips that rounded up into his waist, the valleys of his abdomen up into his ribs that he knew were there but hidden by ripples of muscle, chest and shoulders tense with arm flexed as it held Stephen's leg still and just where he wanted, and he couldn't see as much as feel the soldier's other hand splayed against his other inner thigh. His line of sight wandered farther, up that army smooth and marble cut face, eyes ablaze in the quiet glow of the city through the window that diffused across his impossibly smooth and slightly sheened skin. And Strange couldn't help but grin and then chuckle, dropping his head back to the bed. It was all too real and too impossible at the same time—what choices did he make in his life that led him to this moment?

Stephen choked on a groan as his body arched into a hard thrust. “Stop that,” Rogers chided, akin to a basic training reprimand. He didn't mean for it to sound that way, but it was the most natural.

“Then make me, Captain,” Stephen coaxed, shifting in his grasp as Rogers lazily slid into him.

“I /was/ going to be nice, but if you're going to be a brat...”

“Did I ask you to be nice?”

Rogers gaze leveled with a dark curl to the corner of his mouth. “I don't think you could take it.”

“I've had a god,” Strange retorted lowly, sardonically, antagonizing by design. His back arched away from the bed slightly with a breathy moan, one eye surreptitiously watching the soldier.

“You haven't had me.”

\-------

The headboard and the pillars of the bedframe smacked against the wall hard enough to begin to fracture the wood, perfectly timed with the bruising force at which Rogers hips collided with Stephen's ass, barely enough time between for the 'thwack' to become a singular noise before the next. And somewhere in Stephen's mind, he knew this couldn't be healthy, but the oxygen he was deprived from the cries and pleas being beaten from his lungs didn't allow him to do much thinking. He brought a trembling hand to Rogers' shoulder, a flickering glow interrupted by the hard grip on his wrist that planted it into the bed. “Please,” Strange choked, body shaking under the impact of the other. 

“'Please', what?” Steve panted against his neck. 

“I...can't...” he sobbed, Steve's grip on his hip causing his leg to go numb. 

Rogers sat up and withdrew from him. “You can't?” he asked with a mock surprise, flipping Stephen over with little effort, hand pressing down on the small of the sorcerer's back, settling between his legs again and tilting his hips up. 

“Please... no,” Strange managed hoarsely, gasping against the comforter as he tried to catch his breath. Steve smiled to himself, hand sliding from the other's back down to tenderly ghost over the dark red impact marks on Stephen's ass. Stephen entire body shook under his touch, the sheer muscular strain enough to bring him to the point of breaking. It wasn't unexpected to Rogers, but he was certainly curious how long Strange could last—it was at least impressive, though he hadn't tried with anyone else; no one else was so bold. His hands navigated back up and down Stephen's back, pulling him slowly back against him and settling the doctor on his lap. His arms wound around him, hands smoothing other Strange's chest as his breath found him, Rogers lips trailing across his shoulders. Stephen dropped his head back to Rogers's shoulder, letting out a heavy breath and sinking back into the polar gentleness of the soldier's touch. “Okay...” he said candidly, “You can be nice,” he smiled briefly.

“Oh, can I? Thank you, sir. You're so generous,” he replied derisively, grinning against Strange's neck. 

“Fine. Yes. You were right.”

“You held up well,” Steve consoled, fingers tracing just on the inside of Stephen's thigh.

“Well, I'll be paying for it tomorrow.” 

Steve hummed against the base of Strange's skull, contemplating how Thor would react to him roughing up his companion. Would it turn him on? Probably. Thor, he's sure, has plenty of images to distract himself from his long days with just the thought of Steve propositioning the doctor. The bruises that would show themselves later would have no doubt made it through Thor's train of thought. 

Strange poured himself forward to the comforter and assumed a provocative stretch with a pained tightness in his form. Rogers hands possessively roamed over the beaten and wet flesh, reveling in the way Stephen still quivered under his touch. Steve wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, rubbing himself along the slick guide of the cleft of the doctor's ass before pressing himself in slowly with a low groan. The impossibly tight heat of Stephen around him was a difficult sensation for him to tame—like he was made to be fucked for hours. 

Stephen could feel the distant ebb of pain trying to spark his nerve endings, but the lingering endorphins tamped them down. His body instinctively tightened with the intrusion, but the perfectly angled stroke of Rogers cock through him reignited an indulgent calm in him—placid and submissive. He laced his fingers together carefully and slid his arms forward more across the sprawl of rumpled bedding, lowering his chest with a deep breath. Steve cantered his hips forward, a hot flush rushing up Stephen's face with a guttural moan. Strange kept his hips flush with the other as Rogers leaned over him, arms pillared on either side of the sorcerer as he rolled into him again. “Oh, god...” Stephen dropped his head between his arms, legs shaking against Rogers' as he kept his pace even. “I think...this is my new favorite position.” 

“I'll be sure to mention that in my report,” Steve responded quietly, just above Stephen's shoulder. Strange chuckled into the space between his arms, breath growing shorter. And the moments grew longer, Stephen losing his grasp on time as his world became the rhythmic tide of Rogers against and in him, their shallow breathing and Stephen's low and compulsive sounds that were consumed by the comforter just under him. Soon his only physical points of focus became the cooling liquid that spilled from the tip of his cock down to the bed, a viscous pool that he would occasionally bump against, and the smaller patch of wetness just under his mouth as saliva ran along his lower lip. 

“Hey.” Stephen felt himself jump at the word gently spoken next to his ear; he didn't even feel Rogers lean down. He lifted his head, acknowledging Rogers with a slight turn. The room had grown dark, very dark. How long had it been? Rogers was no longer moving, save for the hand that cupped Strange's ribs and slid down. “You still with me?” Steve smiled, thinking back to the last time he asked. It must be in Steve's automatic queue. Stephen nodded slowly, pushing back against the other. A smile flashed over Rogers face, for no one but himself. Seeing Stephen in that other worldly existence as he was sitting on the bed was endearing—he was so at peace—and it was somewhere Rogers felt like he could never find. Even in that span of time, his mind was wandering and anxious—maybe the good doctor would be willing to help him. He withdrew from the man, a discomfort for both—it almost felt unnatural at this point. He rolled the complicit spellcaster to his back, limbs fluidly following, arms elongating his torso as they fell just above his head, legs spilled open just this side of licentious. Perfectly undone. Another image of the doctor that Rogers would be sure he never forgot. Rogers gave Strange a few good and long strokes along his still leaking cock, the doctor arching up with a hard gasp and pleading noise. “That feel good?”

“You know it does,” Stephen almost growled, senses trickling back to him. He didn't mean for it to sound as patronizing as it did; unfortunately, that was still Stephen's default.

Steve just gave a short laugh. “Of course.” He leaned down between Strange's legs. “What about this?” He drew the flat of his tongue in one long stroke up the length from root to tip, the doctor arching up off the bed for a moment with a quiet whine. Steve rolled his tongue around his mouth a couple of times, at first savoring the very delicate taste of the doctor, then to try to rid himself of the tingling sensation from the lingering lube. Maybe they should try the old fashioned way next time—next time?

Rogers shuffled up between the sorcerer's thighs, pulling one up over his hip as he leaned down. He rest a hand on Stephen's chest, feeling his heart pound under his hand as his chest rose and fell. “I hear our Asguardian friend can make you cum without a single stroke,” Rogers grinned just above Stephen, fingers trailing over his left nipple, feeling his chest tighten. 

“Is nothing sacred?” he sardonically droned, trying to mask the blush creeping up his face. It wasn't even the fact that Thor had told him that, but rather the way the words rolled over Rogers tongue; there was something about his voice wrapped around something particularly naughty that seemed unbelievable and so delicious. A bitten off cry escaped him as Rogers pinched the taut flesh, cock pulsing against the soldier. He could feel Rogers grin just before guiding himself into him, hands curling into the fabric above him with a too long 'ah'. 

“Yes, oh, yes, Doctor,” he purred, giving a hard thrust before tonguing a trail along Strange's neck. Stephen shuddered, fighting the quick flare of impending orgasm as his cock dragged along Steve's abdomen with each thrust, the soldier's mouth too hot as it burned kisses and lashes of tongue across his neck and up to his hairline. His thumb brushed back and forth over the tender flesh on his chest as he held him steady, other hand gliding up Strange's arm as he slid along his forearm. His pace steadily sped up, smooth and solid and so perfect. Rogers panted against the crook of Stephen's neck, closing his eyes as he felt the swell of climax build, the doctor's hand clawing at his shoulder almost sending him over the edge, but the keening noises coming from the spellcaster was enough of an indicator that he didn't need to survive much longer. 

“Oh, fuck,” Stephen rasped, fingers digging in to Steve's shoulder blade as his body bowed up against the solider. “Ohh, Captain Rogers,” was the stalling and ragged moan that followed as orgasm surged through him, bursts of light filling his field of vision, realizing they weren't an ocular illusion. Those words on Stephen's lips were enough to send Steve over the edge, his hands quickly finding comforter to spare the sorcerer the discomfort as his body strung taut, choking out breaths as he pulsed deep within the other man, hands curled tight within the fabric as he thrust out the final tremors, feeling the responsive jolts of the man under him. 

They both settled into each other's touch, Stephen examining the fading amber flecks that danced around his hands, marks latent on the bedding and Steve's shoulder and back. Rogers leveled his gaze just over Stephen's, catching his attention in the glimmering light. There was a stark stillness between them, the pounding of each other's heart almost deafening as the space closed. Rogers head dropped to Stephen's collarbone just as the other dropped his head back to the bed. 

“You are loyal to a fault, Captain,” came a distinct and gravelly voice. Stephen felt a chill shoot through him as he felt his heart stop for a moment. Rogers didn't seem all too fazed—was this the plan all along? “And you...” Strange could feel Thor's presence fill the room as if he had finally manifested, the gleam of his armor in the gentle glow just at the bedside. His blonde hair spilled into view as he leaned down, cupping Stephen's jaw in a war-roughened hand, sealing a longing kiss over the doctor's mouth. Stephen threaded re-illuminated fingers through the dense strands of the god's hair, panic banished from him by the warm glow of Thor's embrace. Thor broke away gently, lips just against Stephen's. “You are a dreadful tease,” he grinned, sitting back, turned towards them on the edge of the bed. “I am almost surprised you could resist, Captain,” he half chuckled, attention on Steve. 

“Me too,” he smiled towards Stephen's chest, lifting his head, catching the sorcerer's eyes, watching the mortification roll around his brain. 

“Please, then. I would not rob you of the opportunity—you took such good care of him.” 

“Now I know this can't be real. You can't possi--” Stephen was cut off by Rogers mouth over his, a fevered and almost desperate kiss smothering any thought he was trying to continue. A quiet moan rose from Stephen while he pressed up against the soldier, an impulsive roll of Steve's hips causing another. 

“I think this is going to work out quite well.”


End file.
